Squares Hold More Than A Thousand Words
by Warble-Warble
Summary: When Amanda gifts Roy with a camera as an early Christmas present, Roy tries to relearn the basics and add onto his minimal photography skills with more techniques. Follow his photography adventures with each individual Dad choice as Roy exposes intimate details beneath the frame and smiles. Not all moments are perfect but at least each picture is worth remembering.


_Squares Hold More Than A Thousand Words_

Prologue

A/N: I proudly present a stable start for another fanfiction series I'm currently working on. Unlike my previous series, this has goals and I've planned out how I'll accomplish them. Also I actually love the Dream Daddy game (even though I haven't bought the game and don't plan to any time soon), so I really want to get through this series with my sanity in tact. :)

"Dad!" I whip my head around, already feeling my neck muscles complain. I ignored the possible cracking noise I heard, though, and widely smiled when I see my energetic little girl bounding towards me once she got outside of the bus station. In two seconds she could have jumped on me, but she was lugging her medium-sized suitcase and two camera bags. So I met her halfway. Amanda then dropped her suitcase to the side, and I locked her and her camera bags in a tight hug with my strong Dad arms. "I missed you, Dad," Amanda whispers softly.

Okay, Roy, you promised yourself and Amanda you wouldn't cry! … Oh why is it so hard to shut down the waterworks now?! I just practiced during the drive here! While I fought some sniffles, I managed to reply, with an obvious rasp in my throat, "I missed you you, too, Amanda…" We stayed like this for a heartwarming short moment, and then Amanda gently pushes me away. She beams at me with that grin of hers.

"If we don't get going, Pops, we'll turn into ice blocks out here." Amanda bent down to grab her suitcase lying on the freezing cement.

I honestly couldn't resist, if my own mischievous grin was anything to go by. "I wouldn't mind being turned into a 'Popsicle' if it meant having you closeby," I chuckle a bit. Amanada froze as she was grabbed her suitcase handle. Then, after a good minute or two, she sprung to life and shot me a glare. "What? I miss my chip of the old block."

Amanda groaned. Before she could tell me how amazing my Dad puns were in her own special way, she sneezed — hard. That's when I noticed my little girl definitely forgot to wear her typical three-layers of scarves. (She only had on one.) I instinctively took off my own scarf – my favorite one, the one grandma knitted for me years ago – and wrapped it around her. (Besides, my superior Dad bod has been hardened over the course of eighteen grueling years to handle this biting cold.) Then I quickly grabbed her suitcase and heavier camera bag from her. Finally I ushered her into the car, with my hand pushing on her back as if I was trying to push this second-grader who wore six snow coats yet complained about how "it's still cold". I only smiled and nodded when Amanda protested about how I "was still treating her like a child", but my "child" is who she will always be anyways.

After we piled into the car, I blasted the heater on. I, of course, knew that wouldn't be enough to warm us up. I personally didn't mind, though. Amanda used that one of the few sure-fire ways to warm herself up even more: talking. As I was backing out of the tight parking spot, careful not to already skid on black ice, she prattled on about her crazy college adventures with her newfound friend and roommate, Coco. These were the ones she didn't get a chance to go in detail during our short calls or prompt texts. Not even five minutes into the highway, we hit heavy traffic due visitors going into Maple Bay for the Christmas holidays. I didn't mind that either.

I saw out of the corner of my eyes how pure and white the snow was, blanketing each car and our surroundings. Now I notice that snowflakes had been drifting down. I'm still listening to Panda's exaggerated details and dramatic tones, but my eyes faced the Winter Wonderland outside the windshield. The odd peace from blending the running engine, Amanda's chatter, slow snowdrift, and impatient honking together, warmed my heart. I only wish I could save these moments somehow.

[ (•) *]

/ | \

Once I unlocked the front door, Amanda ran, pausing to carefully place her camera bag on the coffee table, to the kitchen. Immediately I hear her slamming cupboards open and closed and then the clicking of stove where she's boiling water in our old kettle to make hot cocoa. After shaking my head while smiling and neatly place the rest of her things by the coffee table (she'll bring them back to her den eventually), I walk to the kitchen but stop by the entranceway.

Amanda's eyes were as wide as softballs that Craig practiced with his team. I follow her line of sight to see the opened oven door that lead to the four trays of gingerbread cookies I've been making for this day. Oh boy… "You baked _these_?" Amanda inquired after her shock. I felt indignant, but the smugness reached my head first.

"You bet your socks I did." I leaned against the entranceway with a proud grin. Amanda will never know that I didn't bake just gingerbread cookies before I picked her up and where I stored the other treats. And no one will ever know how much I slaved over the oven since the start of this month after somehow finding a few more of Grandma's recipe cards, more specifically her recipes for Christmas baked goods. These baked goods were supposed to be a surprise for Amanda and everyone else in the cul-de-sac, but of course, Amanda's luck led her to an early reveal. "We're still going to eat actual food before I watch you devour all those poor gingerbread men."

Amanda turned to face me with a scowl, closing – slamming – the oven door closed. She dramatically waved a hand at me as if she was a lawyer accusing me on the stand. "How dare you think that I was going to even one of those fine gingerbread folk, Father! I was clearly going to raise them up and help build a fine civilization. Maybe even a nation! And we'll call it," she paused and did that hand gesture like she was making a rainbow, "'Gingerland'."

I rolled my eyes at Manda Panda's flair for dramatics and stroll to the side of the counter with the our red stools, farthest from the oven. After plopping my tired butt down, I take out my smart phone from my snow pants and entered our usual pizza guy's number. "The name needs some work, honey, but I wholeheartedly support you and your new gingerbread civilization." I press dial. "So I'm going to be ordering us some actual salad with our 'za." I grin as Amanda scowls out me again.

Rico personally delivered our order in record time. Not only did I give him a twenty-dollar tip, I managed to sneak in the two bags of frosted sugar cookies I made for him and his family like a drug dealer about to be busted by none other than my college student. Good thing Amanda went to put away her camera bag and suitcase in her room as I crouched out of the kitchen. But I wonder why she left the smaller camera bag on the coffee table…

Once Amanda was out of her snow layers (I just placed my soaked layers by the door for later) and joined me on the couch, we opened a box of barbeque chicken pizza, and Amanda flipped on the T.V. Yes! So we didn't miss Long Haul Ice Paranormal Ghost Truckers after all! Tonight was supposed to be a season finale where they actually try their hand at European hauntings.

Halfway through the episode – right when a particularly harrowing moment where Callum and Flynt Dogbone were about to make an sharp left turn or drive into a frozen lake – a commercial cut the scene short. I groaned – loudly. Reaching for the first slice in the second box of pizza, Amanda laughs and pats my shoulder with her non-greased up hand. "It'll be okay, Pops. Pretty sure they're going to end up in that frozen lake no matter what they do."

I sigh, still frustrated. Commercials have always been a thorn stuck deep in my side… But I will admit that they have saved me by over mentioning when sale seasons are. So I stuff my pouty lips with the second slice of 'za.

"Soooo, were those gingerbread men supposed to be that surprise you were talking about in the car?" Amanda asked after she slurped up a long gooey string of cheese.

I grinned, "Well, one of them. I have some others planned." Sitting under my work desk was a nicely wrapped nacho station that stores both the nacho chips and cheese. Also, it had that squirt nozzle at the top.

"Well, you're not the only one."

I stop chewing and face my daughter. She wore a wide grin like the Cheshire cat. So I swallow my 'za and lean back a bit, raising my eyebrow at the same time. "Should I get ready to relocate?"

"What! No!" Amanda playfully punches my shoulder and laughs. "I would never do something that led you to move houses again. If you did, you'd turn into a hermit. You would never step outside unless I came home for break and the holidays." …She's not wrong. "Anyways," Amanda guzzles down her slice and reaches over for her camera bag. "I literally could not wait to give this to you now."

"Surprise!" I nearly fall off the couch when Amanda turned to face me with… A camera. It looked so similar to our old camera. The one I took pictures with of Amanda's childhood… I swallowed the newly formed lump in throat down.

"A-Amanda," I wracked my stunned brain for words, "I-is that…?"

She nodded. "Yup. This is indeed a camera, Dad." Holding it up higher and closer towards me, Amanda began laughing. "Don't worry. It's not going to bite you, Pops. Maybe flash you if I forgot to change the settings. But that's about the worse it can do."

Great. My brain short-circuited. I could only blink in shock as a response.

"Okay, let me tell you the story of how I got this before you think I've turned to the drug dealing business." After she retracted the camera away from me, Amanda leans in with a devious smirk. "Which I might have."

"You're more clueless than I am on how to get drugs, honey," I pointed out. Folding my arms, I raise a brow and eye the camera still in her hands. I noticed how even its size was close to our old one… "So what's the real story?"

Manda Panda stuck her tongue at me. "Fine. Underestimate your own daughter's charming ways and cunning mind. Anyways, I won this from a bet."

"A bet?"

"Yup. So Coco had this friend who was in the same major as I am. His name's Ivan, and I think he was a junior. Anyways, Ivan was even this photography buff, but he was into cameras as a hobby. So this really cool new camera came out in the middle of the semester. Ivan bought it, of course, but he was running out of space in his apartment or something like that. That's why he started to sell a couple of his older cameras and some other photography gear.

He came up to me with a few good offers, but I politely rejected him. I had my own gear. Plus, I wanted to save money for others things. Ivan was kinda desperate, so he made a bet with. Here's the thing about Ivan: he absolutely hates nachos. He had severe food poisoning from eating nachos at a county fair. So, Ivan's heard about my legendary nacho eating skills from Coco. He made a bet that if I only eat nachos on a daily for a whole month – without getting sick or eating something – then I'd get his oldest camera for free. Long story short, I had the best month of my life."

I blinked. This kind of bet definitely sounded like the bets that Craig and I would do back in our wild days. Instead of nachos, it was hardcore alcohol. I quietly stared at Amanda longer. She had on that proud beaming smile. Of course I couldn't reject her present – as if I'd ever do that – after she won a hard-fought bet. Once again, Amanda held the camera towards me. I carefully took it. (I notice the small jerks and shakes my hands made once my fingers touched the cool black plastic.)

"Thank you…" I softly said. I honestly was grateful to my daughter. But I was also just so confused…

As I continued examining the camera, reliving flashbacks from when I was the designated photographer for the family… back when Alex was alive, Amanda cleared her throat. I looked up at her just to see an awfully worried expression covering her happy go lucky face. "Dad… I want to be real with you for a minute." The large lump in my throat returned, but I didn't – couldn't – swallow it down this time. "I actually wanted to buy that camera from Ivan at first. But I knew I had to save up now for that tuition. Before you interrupt, I just wanted to tell you why I wanted to give you a camera as a Christmas present."

Without me noticing, my little girl had scooted closer to me. Soft, warm hands wrapped around the camera and mine. I was reminded once again that she inherited Alex's glowing amber eyes. Amanda then broke my reverie with a calm voice. "I wanted to give you a camera this Christmas so you could make new memories. I've always wanted you to get back into photography after you left it alone. I know you have other hobbies to keep you busy, but you always had this lingering stare when you looked at my cameras. There was something like regret and guilt whenever you stared." A silent pause squeezed between us. So she did notice… My eyes dropped to the camera in our hands. God, it has been too long. "I felt kinda guilty, too, but then I felt like I wanted to shout at you for giving it up for me. So, long story short, here's your very own camera."

The warmth around my hands left me, but I could feel Amanda's warm smile radiating towards me. I just couldn't face her right now… In a story long ago, I had insisted that Alex be the one to take pictures, not me. He was the artsier one between the two of us. Yet alas, he managed to convince me to take pictures. Truth be told I enjoyed it. Until Alex passed away.

From then on, I still took pictures but mainly of Amanda. That same joy from the start vanished when he was buried, but I felt it my responsibility to capture my little girl's life. To hell with sadness and regret, I couldn't bare the thought of just letting Amanda's life slip through my fingers. Then I found out Amanda had a natural gift with taking photos. After she won her first photography competition, I basically gave her our camera and haven't touched that world ever since.

Finally I took a deep breath. And moved on. I returned her smile with a grateful one, "Thanks for the camera, hun, really. And for being 'real with me'. I will try to get back into taking pictures, but remember, your old is really rusty."

Amanda scoots back to her old spot on the couch and then winks at me. She points at herself with her thumb. "Don't worry, Pops. You got the best Master around to polish you up."

"Okay, Manda Panda. Whatever you say. Just don't expect me to fall for washing our car so I could hold a camera better."

"Pfft! More like I'd make you bake more of those gingerbread men so you'd at least have a subject to picture." We both laugh. Then we went back to finishing off our 'za _and_ salad. A long list of white-text credits on black indicated that the season finale episode was done. I didn't mind that.

After we finished our dinner, Amanda zips back to the kitchen and swiftly laid them out the baking sheets on the counter. She then began devouring her supposed future citizens of Gingerland after making herself a steaming mug of hot cocoa. I managed to figure out how to turn on the camera by myself – despite years of literally not touching an actual camera that wasn't built into a smartphone.

My very first picture was Amanda raising her favorite mug while her cheeks puffed out from eating three gingerbread men at the same time.


End file.
